Sci-Fi

Is it really that simple, you do something and then there is an immediate benefit to show for it?

When I was in my early 30’s I went through a phase of reading a lot of Sci-Fi (I had always enjoyed reading that genre, but this was a particularly intense period). I ended up with about 350 paperbacks. I had a thing about series of books too, something which transcends genres, I’m a sucker for getting a set of books and the consistency it gives the bookshelf – but that’s another story.

I know roughly how many I had, because at some point I stopped reading Sci-Fi and boxed them all up and sold them to friend. Now I’m being asked, what have I got to show for reading all those books? What benefit did it give me? How come I can’t tell a story?

I like to think that somehow they have benefited me, in my language, my knowledge, my ways of thinking. I tried to argue that Sci-Fi encourages thought outside of normal conventions, it’s the fantasy that pushes our understanding of reality, and allows us to look at reality in new ways. Sure, it’s escapism and you can go too far down that road (I was given the example of Japanese who become obsessed with Manga). But I think there are intangible benefits to reading something which doesn’t just reflect reality, but plays with it. Without question, I think there are intangible benefits to reading.

And intangible is a good word, used a lot here in China to describe cultural heritage which can’t be saved as objects. Like theatre performances, music, temporary things, ephemeral: something which can define art in itself. I think I make use of this knowledge, this experience of reading, every day, because it’s what makes me who I am. There’s no point asking me to define it, it’s right there in front of you.

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There are many reasons to write, some reasons just appear out of nothing/nowhere, maybe an unfilled form, or the keys on the keyboard, one after the other, stopping and reversing to correct a spelling error. Not random, but with no purpose other than to follow the trail that appears only after the act. I find it almost impossible to organise my thoughts into writing. I cannot be a good (academic) writer of anything beyond a few paragraphs. And then I have to remind myself that that’s all a book really is, a few paragraphs, followed by a few paragraphs, followed by a few paragraphs, and, eventually, you have a book. What could be easier. Yet, I’m laughing as I write that, lines that drip cliché, even as I write them I know this, yet it doesn’t stop me writing it. Because I know that at the end I can just <delete>